Forever The World of Nightwalkers - By Jacquelyn Frank Page 0,13

them later on if it came to it. For now, she was focusing on the lookie-lous and those seemingly close to the family. Especially those close to or part of the family. Statistics showed that a high percentage of child disappearances were instigated by another family member. Uncle. Cousin. Brother. Mother.

Mother. Marissa hung back from introducing herself to the mother just yet. Instead she leaned back against the warmth of the SUV’s hood, the spring night coming in a little chillier than it had been. She had been in such an all-fired rush to jump into the car with Jackson that she had forgotten to grab her coat. Or her purse for that matter. But she wasn’t going to waste time examining the reasons why she had done that. She had bigger fish to fry.

The mother looked suitably distraught. There really was no right or wrong way for a parent to act after their child disappeared; line-height:1.4em; } div.toc_. i, but there were certain things you wouldn’t expect to see in their behavior.

For instance, the mother pulling out a compact and checking herself before allowing a reporter to speak to her. She dabbed at her eyes, pulled out a lipstick, tugged at her curls in order to make them settle better and more attractively. Now, it was highly possible that these behaviors were rote, that in her shock she was resorting to motions and actions that were comforting and familiar. But there were also triggers for certain behaviors. The trigger here, she imagined, was the desire to look at her most appealing to anyone watching her. Now why would a mother care about that when her child was potentially lying dead in a ditch somewhere?

A cold dread clenched in Marissa’s stomach. She flicked her attention to Jackson, who had Sargent out of the car. The dog was twisting and turning around after having been given the scent he was supposed to search for. Jackson’s brow was drawn in a wrinkled wave of perplexity and concern. He kept tugging at Sargent, redirecting him, but the dog seemed to be lost. Either that or he simply wasn’t as well-trained as he needed to be yet.

She found the latter very hard to believe. She had watched out of her window for three weeks solid as Jackson had run Sargent through drill after drill after drill, ending every one with triumphant praise and the genuine pleasure of a job well done. She moved closer to him.

“Jackson?” she hedged, not wanting to interfere. She didn’t even realize she had called him by his given name rather than “Officer Waverly” as she usually did.

“He’s not catching on,” Jackson said, the frown deepening.

“Jackson,” she said more softly. “The mother.”

That brought his attention sharply away from Sargent and up to her face. She couldn’t help but jerk in a short breath when she found herself the center of his attention and staring dead into his brilliant turquoise eyes. They were that bright tropical ocean blue that made you jealous of their beauty and the power behind them could either scare the bejeezus out of you or make you melt into a puddle of hormones.

She was trying hard to resist doing the latter. Very, very hard.

And it was strange, but she had never thought they were so sea-colored before. She had always thought they were more of a classic blue. How strange …

Jackson redirected Sargent without looking at him and the pup obediently sat at his heel. He released her from his penetrating regard for all of a second to steal a glance at the missing child’s mother. But then he was back t3.org/1999/xht

CHAPTER THREE

Kamenwati was slowly turning the pages of a prayer compendium. It was dead silent in the room, so the rasping sound of one page against another filled the otherwise vacant air. There was one other sound. Breathing. There was an inadequate touch of comfort in the sound of her breathing as she slept. Sleep being a subjective term.

At least she was alive, he kept telling himself. But Kamen could not rejoice overmuch in the understanding that it was a matter of semantics in Odjit’s case. Her host, Selena, who had given his mistress new and glorious life, was now Odjit’s warden. Her prison.

When he got his hands on that mortal who had dared to injure her those three long weeks ago, his blade nearly severing Selena’s head from her body as he had cut her throat, he was going to destroy him slowly, molecule by